Gunshots or Fireworks?
by consulting superhero
Summary: It is Dean's first 4th of July after returning from war. Cas comes home to a quiet house as fireworks boom outside. PTSD!Dean, Nurse!Cas, Domestic!AU. A quick oneshot, which may lead to a full story. This is my first story to be published, so please review.


Cas parked his little white Toyota behind Dean's gorgeous Impala as he pulled into their driveway. He was humming some song that had been playing on the radio. Still in his scrubs with his hair fairly disheveled from a day's work as a nurse in the burn center, he grabbed the burgers and fries from the passenger seat. He closed the door, only to remember the apple pie sitting in the backseat.

As he grabbed the pie, he heard a loud boom from not too far away. Cas rolled his eyes. People in the Midwest were very patriotic for the Fourth of July and they wanted to spread their American attitude through fireworks (that may not have been entirely legal). It was barely dark, but Cas had seen three separate fireworks attempts on the way home while hearing many more.

Now it wasn't that Cas wasn't patriotic; he was dating a soldier who had just returned from Afghanistan seven months ago (the perfect gift for the new years). He had supported Dean as much as he could through letters and however else they had managed to communicate during their time apart. And in truth, he loved what America stood for: liberty and justice and so on. No, it wasn't a lack of patriotism that led Cas to be annoyed about the 4th; it was the general drunken state of the town, which had led to a stunning 12 people being taken to the burn unit last year alone. Cas was all for fireworks, but seeing a little girl who had 3rd degree burns on her arms from trying to "catch the sparkles" had made him rather cynical about the holiday.

Nevertheless, it was an excuse for some vacation time. Dean and him both had tomorrow off, then the weekend. Cas was extremely excited for some time without having to set alarms to signal further temporary separation from his love. Cas planned for them to stay in bed for the majority of the long weekend (hence the pie).

He strolled up to the door, balancing bags in his hands to open the door. Shutting the door with his hip, he headed past the entryway and through the hallway into the kitchen where he set the food on the counter. Cas called out into the quiet house, "I'm home. And you'll be happy to see what I brought you."

There was no answer. Cas called again, "Dean? Are you home?"

But Cas had seen his car and knew he was home. Cas slipped off his sneakers and climbed upstairs to check their bedroom. There was another loud boom from the fireworks nearby as Cas ascended the stairs. He opened the door to their bedroom and found the bed to be empty. Puzzled, he spun around to see the bathroom door was closed.

"Dean?" he called out hesitantly as he knocked lightly against the door. It creaked open to reveal a huddled figure in the dark. Dean had curled himself against the shower door. He was still in his mechanic's jumpsuit, dirty against the light blue tiles.

Cas crouched down next to him and murmured, "Dean, baby? What's going on?"

Dean was breathing in and out of his mouth hurriedly. His breath hitched, caught in the back of his throat. The tears were gathering in the corners of his green eyes. Cas reached out with his hand and lightly touched Dean's shoulder. Dean jerked away from his touch, then looked up at Cas.

"I'm sorry," he blurted out. Hands beginning to shake as he clutched his knees. A loud boom in the distance made him jump once more. "Gunshots," Dean whimpered. "That's all I hear."

Cas leaned into Dean, uncoiling his hands from his knees and placing one over Dean's heart and one over his own chest.

"Breathe in and out," Cas said in his nurse voice. "Everything will be alright. I promise you that. I am here and you are here and we are in our home." Even quieter he murmurs into Dean's shoulder, "You are safe in our home, in my arms. And I will keep you safe."

Dean seemed to surrender and he grew slack in Cas' arms allowing himself to be pulled into a hug. They sat that way for sometime, in the corner of their bathroom, leaning against the glass door of the shower and leaning against each other. When each crackle, boom or bang came, Dean would flinch and Cas would stroke his back. Dean had nuzzled his head into Cas' chest, smelling the hospital disinfectant, the fried food he had brought home and the warm smell of Cas' body. This steadied him beyond all else. Though Cas' soothing words did help, it was the smell that reminded him of where he was. No scent of gunpowder or gasoline. No reek of unfamiliar men's sweat in the desert sun. Just home, there, buried in Cas' chest.

Dean steadied himself with the scent of home and once he had his mind back, he looked up into Cas' blue eyes. That is what grounded Dean so completely. Home.

"I think—I think we should head to bed," Dean announced, voice cracking slightly.

Cas nodded and helped Dean onto his feet. They entered their room with Cas leading Dean by the hand. Cas assisted Dean in taking off his work clothes, leaving only his boxers for this warm summer night. Then Dean removed Cas' baggy scrubs, revealing the tight pale flesh underneath. Once they were both undressed, Cas again led Dean, this time to the bed. Crawling under the sheets, Cas curled his body into Dean's so that both their arms and legs were intertwined. Facing each other in the semi-darkness, Cas whispered softly, "I love you."

There was a deep boom, then quicker crackling from fireworks nearby. Dean flinched, but pressed his mouth against Cas'. The sound passed and soon it was silent again in their suburban Kansas neighborhood.

Dean pulled back and murmured, his voice deep with sleepiness, "I love you too. Thank you."

Cas responded by nuzzling his face into Dean's neck. Cas lay there silent, listening to Dean's breaths growing even and his body relaxing into sleep. Only then did Castiel succumb to his dreams as well, but not before whispering, "You are home, my love," into Dean's ear.

The burgers grew cold downstairs as they grew warm upstairs, comforted by each other's presence.


End file.
